Dick had waken up extra early for this.  So it had better work.

Dick suspiciously peeked his head outside his room and looked both ways.  Nobody, good.  He closed the door and locked it.  He crossed his room to the window, and peered out.  Nobody, still safe.  He shut the blinds and covered them with curtains. He quickly peered out of the secret trapdoor under his bed that led to the Batcave.  Nobody, clear to go.  He quickly barred the trapdoor and put the code in.  He popped out from under his bed and went into his bathroom to open the secret mirror.  Nobody was in that little storage area.  Nobody, still clear.  Dick looked satisfied with his work and went to the small safe in his room to take out...

A knife?

Yes, a knife.  It had a small handle, but a bigger blade.  Dick took the knife in his hand and a few white bandages around his shoulders, then took the knife quickly and he worked around his wrist with so much skill and accuracy.  He didn't wince, nor did he cry out.  He had such skill, that it made it look like he had done this for many years.  And he had.  In a few second, three new puffy scars littered his wrist.

Each new scar meant something.  The first, because he felt like an ultimate failure, the second, because Damian now knew about Deathstroke, and third, because he felt Bruce didn't love him anymore. 

Dick looked fondly at the scars, the old and the new.  He had made it a habit to scar himself every morning.  He couldn't stop, he just couldn't.  It was an addiction.  He just couldn't let anybody find out, if they did, he would be scolded pretty bad.

Dick took the bandage and secured his wrist.  Dick put the knife back in the safe with satisfaction, then locked it.  He opened his mirror, unbarred his trapdoor, opened the blinds, and swung open the door.  Pleased with his morning ritual, he skipped downstairs, ignoring the nipping pain in his arm.

-----

Jason was suspicious.  Yes, he was always suspicious, but recently, mornings seemed a little off.  Because of Dick.  He was coming down later than usual, or sometimes so much earlier, and he always had that wacky white bandage around his wrist.  Why?

But Jason couldn't worry about that, he had to fix breakfast.  Since Alfred and Bruce were out, the boys were taking turns fixing breakfast.  Alfred had some family emergency and was needed out of town.  Bruce was advertising something new, as always, for Wayne Tech Industries.  Out of the country.  So for breakfast, no one could fix it for him.  Besides all the boys.  And today was his day.

Jason had already fixed the cocoa and was onto the pancakes, and it was not going smoothly.

"Darn it!" Jason was resisting the urge to say a bad word, and than pull out his gun and shoot the pan,"That was the third pancake I burned, and it's sticking to the bottom of the pan!"

Though he was speaking to no one in particular, since he had naturally assumed everybody was asleep, Dick had heard from the stairwell.

"Did you try putting oil on the pan?" Dick suggested, peering over Jason's shoulder.

"Agh!" gasped Jason, who was surprised,"No, oh, yeah, supposed to do that, I forgot.   Darn it!" Jason again restrained himself, and instead wondered why Dick was up so early.

"Hey, want some help?" Dick offered caringly, seeing the plain frustration on his brother's face.

"No, I mean, yeah." Jason smiled meekly,"You're much better at cooking than I am."

Dick smiled kindly and took the oil out of Jason's hands.

The two boys soon had a plate of pancakes on the table.  Dick washed his hands, very carefully, and headed to the living room until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.  Jason.

"Dick, I need to ask you something, well, not ask, I mean..." Jason couldn't find the word.

"What is it?" Dick felt concerned, was Jason hurt?  Did he burn himself?

"What is with you in the morning?  You're always so off!" Jason blurted.  Dick was taken aback.

Dick turned away quickly and hugged his hand to his chest,"Nothing Jay bird, you go eat now, kay?"

"Dick..." Jason warned, and he pulled out his gun in a threatening way,"I'll speak with Bruce, and he'll make sure that you.."

"Fine!  Fine!  I'll tell you!" Dick twirled around, then accidentally hit his wrist on the wall.  That would normally not hurt Dick, but the fresh wounds were killing him.  Dick hissed loudly, and grabbed his wrist.

Jason grabbed Dick's wrist with a look of curiosity, but it was quickly followed by concern as Dick's eyes started to water up and his face was contorting into one of a look of pain.

"Dick?" Jason looked at the white bandage, then realizing something, started to unravel it, revealing three fresh cuts,"You didn't... I thought you stopped."

Dick collapsed to the floor and let the tears come,"I can't stop!  Once you start you can't stop!"

Jason sat next to him and drew him near,"Why?"

"I'm not enough, I'm a failure!" Dick scrunched his eyes.

"You're enough for the boys, and me, and Alf, and Bruce.  Dick you can't-"

"Yes, I can!  I have to!"

"Is this what your parents would want?"

Dick shut his mouth and looked away,"No..."

"Then don't do it."

"It's not that easy..."

"Well I'll make it."

Jason carefully lifted his brother from the ground and then helped him to the table,"I'll make it easy."

Dick smiled and both boys walked to Dick's room, Dick pulled out the knife from the safe and looked at it sadly, then threw it out his window.

"See?" Jason asked.

Dick smiled back at him and walked with renewed confidence to the table.